Arms of The Dragon
by nyhmdn
Summary: The only common lead they had come up with in the investigation was the presence of the same dragon mark. Black, burned into the skin of every victim for the last month. A body every week. A human, every week. Detective Granger has a lot on her plate.
1. Arms Of The Dragon

Chapter 1; Arms of The Dragon

The car shook with so much fervor, Hermione couldn't even form a coherent thought. Try as she might, Gryffindor's Golden Princess just could not overcome the situation, and it was starting to get on her nerves.

"Stop here, thank you!" She finally said, feeling a bit guilty to have snapped at the unknowing taxi driver. As she exited the vehicle, she silently thanked God that she was able to be on solid ground, and thought of her recent predicament. Harry and Ron, while she loved them dearly, were giving her the tightest figurative chokehold she had ever had. She knew what Andrew did was horrible; she'd had many tear-filled, wineglass-emptied nights filled with romantic-comedies to acknowledge that the man she had given her heart to had turned out to be a right git.

Brought back from the world in her head, she looked at her reflection in the glass window of whatever store she was currently perched in front of and smiled to herself. She knew she resembled Winnie the Pooh right now, with her metaphorical jar of honey and her own "think think think" mantra. But, as she had already known, things in real life weren't as easy as Milne's books liked to portray.

She sighed, adjusting her favorite coat to fight off the November breeze. Realizing that she hadn't a clue where she was, she looked around. Squinting her eyes to make out the shapes behind the glass window, she noticed a statue; one of her favorite Greek goddesses, Athena. As a child, Hermione had all but worshipped her. Using Athena as a source of comfort on the days where she felt more than stigmatized from the world she was supposed to feel a part of, Hermione would envision herself as the goddess in the past. She was everything little Hermione wanted to be, her immortalized self-concept.

The corners of her mouth pulled up when she thought of herself as a child, innocent, without the branding of war and what it does to people. Her train of thought, however, was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone. She hastily fished for her phone in her pockets, finally finding it and answering without having bothered to look at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hermione! Oh, I'm so glad you finally answered. I know that you're thinking about the whole ordeal and I just wanted you to know that—"

"Andrew? Listen, I am asking you very nicely, please stop calling me. This is the last time I'm going to answer you. Goodbye."  
"No, Hermione listen—"

She hung up and breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose. What an idiot. She looked up at Athena's statue, at the stoic and aloof expression that all figures such as this don. She could almost sense the mockery, the disappointment, the I-taught-you-better look. Hermione couldn't help but resort to extremely childish methods, and she proceeded to stick her tongue out.

"Oh, shut it, Athena."

She chuckled out loud, _I've truly lost my marbles._ She almost understood the reason why the goddess pledged for maidenhood. It made so much sense; men were tossers. Drew was the perfect piece of evidence to that statement. For goodness sake, he hadn't even locked the door when he brought that thin blonde and had his way with her in THEIR bed.

She shook her head. She would not allow thoughts such as these to ruin her day. The weather was perfect, just the way Hermione loved. As she walked, she looked up to appreciate it all. It was one of those gloomy days where the proper way to describe the general atmosphere would be grey. Just grey. She absolutely adored grey. Weather like this reminded her so much of Hogwarts, of home. She breathed in the air, willing it with every bit of her person to rain soon.

It was time for some positive reinforcement. She felt like she deserved to treat herself to whatever she wanted. Glancing to the right, she noticed a small café. It huddled, despondent among the tall buildings in Muggle London. People rushed by it outside on the street, and had Hermione not fixated on it, she would've missed it too. It looked ancient; you could pick the whole thing up, send it back fifty years and it wouldn't look out of place. The frontage was tattered layered brick, and the sign hung from above— _Amaranthine._ The windows, however, revealed round tables covered with white embroidered cloth that mostly seated two people on vintage teal chairs. The lighting was a subtle yellow that cast a soft glow, and if one were to focus, jazz could be heard from inside.

It had taken Hermione but a split second to decide that she would go in. The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, and she smiled sheepishly, realizing she had caused a blast of cold wind to enter with her. She scanned the cafe and her eyes settled on the right corner; a small table for two close to a bookshelf. She walked to the table and sat down at the chair facing the windows. Hermione unwrapped her scarf and took off her coat, signaling to the waitress.  
"Hello, welcome to Amaranthine," said the waitress.  
"Hello Anne," replied Hermione, focusing on the woman's name tag, "Thank you."  
"How about a steaming mug of hot chocolate then Miss?"  
"That sounds lovely, thank you, Anne. Please call me Hermione."  
"Beautiful name for a beautiful woman," complimented Anne as she walked off.  
Hermione blushed and looked down, noticing the ring that was still on her finger. Cringing, she took it off hastily and all but threw it in her bag. _Asshole_. She took her second deep breath of the day and looked around once more. As she slowly turned her head, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched, very intently. In an instant, her brown eyes met with what she could only describe as grey thunderstorms caged in the eyes of a man with platinum blond hair. Oh, how she loved grey.

Hermione had her suspicions and she was hoping they wouldn't be true. She sincerely couldn't handle another disastrous situation in her life right now. She really needed this one day to feel better, feel like her world wasn't somehow rocked back and forth in the most unsettling of ways. Alas, the gods had other plans for her, and she knew those quite well. Focusing on the face of who those eyes belonged to, the slight smirk pulling up pink lips obviously gone red by a sip of wine, Hermione cursed her luck. _Of course, where else would I wander off to other than right into the arms of the dragon himself?_

His lips pulled up into a smile so innocent Hermione was about to roll her eyes. _Predictable, the ferret._ He raised his head, using his chin as if to signal her to sit in the chair across of him. She scoffed, raised her own chin back in defiance. He raised an eyebrow, so perfectly angled it seemed like he practiced this look in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Hermione laughed to herself. His answering look was quizzical, and just as Hermione was about to look away, he signaled to Anne with his arm and got up. heading straight towards her table. _Could this day get any worse?_

He stopped right behind the chair, his fingers gripping it's back, black coat hung around his other arm.  
"Tsk tsk tsk," he clicked his tongue. "Hermione Granger. Almost wouldn't have recognized you if not for the hair."  
 _Yes. Yes, it could get a whole lot worse._


	2. See You Never

**A/N:** Hello! Thank you so much for reading and giving this fic a chance! It means a lot seeing as it's my first one ever and I've wanted to write one for about 9 years. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. I REALLY WOULD APPRECIATE IT. I NEED TO KNOW IF I'M CUT OUT FOR THIS. THANK YOU AGAIN.

Chapter 2; See You Never

"Oh, Draco Malfoy. Definitely recognized you because of the hair. How's the blond dye working for you?"

He pulled out the chair and took a seat.

"Ah, she still bites back. Badge on today Detective?"

"Badge on every day, Mr. Malfoy. To what do I owe your resplendent presence?" Her smile was so thin it could be called anorexic.

"Well, when one sees a frizzy-haired decent-looking woman such as yourself sitting alone, it's almost blasphemous not to join." He smirked. Hermione was watching him use his forefinger to trace the mouth of the glass cup on the table between them. It was quite entrancing, how easily it glided over in circles.

"Just when I thought my day was getting better…" Hermione looked up, silently cursing the gods.

Thankfully, at that moment Anne had returned with Hermione's steaming mug of hot chocolate.  
"Thank you, Anne!" She smiled warmly at Hermione then faced Draco.  
"Don't be botherin' Miss Hermione now, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco put a hand over his heart and gave an exaggerated gasp. "Would I ever, Anne?" He asked incredulously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Of course not, you angel._ Anne gave Hermione a wink and walked off. Draco looked back at Hermione and began to open his mouth. She raised up her finger, signaling him to wait. She then took a sip from her hot cocoa and closed her eyes, savoring the taste. Dark chocolate could solve any of Hermione's problems.  
"Mmm."

She opened her eyes to a thoroughly amused Draco Malfoy.  
"You women with your chocolate," He said, shaking his head back and forth.  
"You men with your misogynistic brains," Hermione retorted.

"You wound me Detective. You truly do."

"Didn't know that was possible."

Draco threw his head back and laughed loudly.

Hermione smiled. The ferret was a lot of things, but his laugh was mellifluous. That Hermione could not deny. It blended perfectly well with the surrounding croon of Louis Armstrong.  
At that moment, it hit her.  
"What are you doing at an irrevocably Muggle café, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, incredibly curious.

Draco's raised lips pulled back into a set smile.

"Didn't daddy dearest teach you to stay away?"  
"Why, Detective," He began mocking her, "I thought you could tell-"

Hermione's phone buzzed. Text message. Her heart dropped as she fished it out of her bag. "Please don't be what I think, please don't be what I think…"  
Draco, who was still talking, stared at her. "Is something the matter, Granger? Did something happen to your horrible cat thing?"

She looked down at her phone's screen and couldn't help the string of profanities that exited her mouth. She set it on the table, and buried her face in her hands.

"This world is filled with horrible monsters, Malfoy."

"That, Detective, is probably the smartest thing I've ever heard you say."

Hermione looked up from under her hands and could almost see the tough exterior Malfoy held so proudly break down a smidge.  
Draco looked at her phone. **There's been another. Same mark, same place. Need you here.**  
"Another case to solve? Probably added to the long list of things you couldn't fix, no?" He questioned.

"I can see how you're benefitting society with your existence, too. Do you just sit there, looking dumb and pretty?"  
"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" Draco smirked at her. "It's alright, I know you do. You can stare all you want."

Hermione shook her head. "You're incorrigible."  
"Back to the case, you haven't been able to catch any leads since I last saw you?"

Hermione recalled the time she and her partner barged into the apartment of said Draco Malfoy. She had been thoroughly surprised to see him living in Muggle London, as the computers dared her to believe.

The only common lead they had come up with in the investigation was the presence of the same dragon mark. Black, burned into the skin of every victim for the last month. A body every week. A human, every week.

She had searched frantically for any family with the insignia of a dragon. The Malfoys were the first to come up though Hermione couldn't really believe it, seeing as she knew they lived in the Wizarding World. She had her suspicions it was a distant Malfoy, living in the Muggle world with an inherent need to terrorize. However, the apartment leased to the name belonged to a Mr. Draco Malfoy, 24 years of age.

Naturally, one couldn't help but think of the man with the Latin word for dragon as his actual name to have somewhat of a hand in the murders. Hermione knew however that it wasn't him. She was more than certain that he wasn't capable of taking someone's life. Even if he had, Hermione doubted he was capable of the monstrosity she had dealt with on a daily basis. He hadn't been able to at Hogwarts, even with the looming threat of the loss of his family hanging over his head.

"Earth to Detective Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, reaching for her bag to pay.  
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I can't tell you anything."  
"Yes, I know. Don't worry about this, it's on the house."

Hermione startled at his kind gesture. _Maybe the dragon didn't always breathe fire._

"God forbid anyone seeing you leave here having paid. Hermione Granger, detective extraordinaire."

Hermione sighed. _Never mind._

"It was so great seeing you again, Malfoy. Let's do this never again." Hermione said, wearing her biggest smile.  
"A plus jamais, Detective." He gave a saluting gesture as Hermione wore her coat and made her way to the door.


	3. CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS

As soon as she exited the café, Hermione walked as fast as she possibly could to the closest alleyway. She leaned against the brick wall, raised her head and took a deep breath. _It's alright, in through the nose, out through the mouth._ She repeated to herself.

She had become accustomed to the slight panic attacks that hit her every time she was told of a new murder. Surprisingly, this one took quite longer to hit, but that could be pinned on Malfoy's presence. Ever since she was younger, Hermione had to put up a stronger front, especially when he was around. He already saw her as weaker, no need to offer him any more of a reasoning. She smiled, and then laughed at herself. Draco Malfoy, evoking genuine laughter out of Hermione Granger. _This'll be one for the books._

Shaking her head, Hermione took out her wand, and disapparated into the station's closet room. Dusting off her robe, she exited the dim room and headed straight for her office, ignoring the looks of "Oh no her fiancé cheated on her" shot her way.

"Hermione, tell me you got the text." Paul stood up, obviously having waited for her in her office.

"Sincerely wish I didn't, Paul. Let's go."

Paul had been her partner for the last 2 years. He was easier to deal with than any of the others she'd been paired with. He was fairly smart, did his share of the work and was always prepared, which is a lot more than can be said for many of the men and women at the station.

Grabbing her keys, they left in Hermione's black Mercedes W189 to the address sent to them. Paul and her had been used to the silent car rides, so it didn't bother Hermione in the slightest. She simply drove to the destination and was thinking about how to deal with the murders.

Looking around, the neighborhood seemed abandoned. Hermione parallel parked, and both she and Paul got out of the car.

"This is it."

The house seemed like it had been new, once upon a time, but by the looks of it, that probably was about a century ago. Paint was chipped, doors were broken, windows had no glass. She couldn't help but think, _what a perfect place to murder someone._

Paul entered, holding the gate open for Hermione. She smiled at him, and followed the trail of police officers taking pictures and searching for evidence.

She and Paul continued down the pathway leading to the front door, passing under the **"CRIME SCENE; DO NOT PASS"** yellow tape. Paul opened the door. Hermione let her eyes rest on every single detail in the room. The first thing they settled on was the staircase leading upwards to where Hermione guessed the bedrooms were. To the right was what was supposed to be the living room, which only contained two couches covered with white sheets. Hermione saw more cobwebs than she saw couches however.

The house was mostly dead inside. It seemed only fitting to add yet another lifeless thing to the mix. Her eyes then fixed on Hugh Jones, who was holding open a file reading through it.

"Detectives, victim's female this time-" Jones started with the briefing.

"Female? That's his first one," said Paul.

"Yes, 23 years of age, a miss Leslie Archmiller, occupation: secretary at a dentist's office, Dr. Joseph Gordon."

Hermione heart dropped. Joseph Gordon was Hermione's dentist when her parents were out of town. She vaguely remembered his secretary, a beautiful young woman with blond hair and a bubbly personality. She was polite, kept to herself.

Hermione couldn't help but conjure up horrid images of a mangled body attached to a terrorized face. "Detective Granger, it's possibly his worst work yet, be prepared," said Colin, his eyes opened wide, shaking his head.

Hermione nodded. "Thanks Colin." _As if I needed more of a reason to worry._ However, nothing she imagined could prepare her for what she would see next.

She pointed upwards. "Upstairs?"

"First bedroom to the left," answered Hugh.

She stepped forward, cringing at every creaking sound her steps emitted. Going up the stairs, with Paul at her tail, Hermione wondered about the murders. She had an idea about them altogether, however she thought it was sincerely too farfetched. It just didn't make any sense.

She kept going back to the image of the body she called to mind earlier. When she reached the door to the bedroom, she shivered slightly, almost sensing the evil in the air due to the act of mercilessly taking someone's life. This one didn't just take lives though, he did it with a perverse enjoyment.

Bringing herself back, she shared eye contact with Paul. He nodded to her and nudged his chin, as if signaling her to open the door. Grabbing a napkin from her pocket, Hermione pushed open the door, and couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips.


End file.
